How the Other Half Die E-Book

Rachel North

• Herausgeber: Corvus
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 458

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

'Succession meets The White Lotus. Absolutely enthralling' Antony Johnston 'Relentlessly page-turning' Philippa East 'Pure escapism' L D Smithson Privilege has a price. But who will pay it? On the eve of her seventieth birthday, Geri gathers her brother's spoilt adult children together on the family's private island and tells them that she's ready to name her successor as CEO of the lucrative global empire founded by their grandfather. Her announcement triggers a frenzy of suspicion, rivalry and back-stabbing. Each of the three siblings believes the role should go to them - despite the dark secrets that they all harbour. As Geri uncovers the black heart of her own family, will the best among them win the prize? Or will the heirs to the Chalice crown finally get what they so richly deserve? Praise for Rachel North: 'Creepy and compulsive' Sabine Durrant 'A stonking page-turner' Emma Curtis

Leseprobe

Rachel North was born in Scarborough and studied English Literature at Oxford University. She has worked as a cleaner, a receptionist, a kitchen designer, a market researcher, a company director, a celebrity shopper and a victim support volunteer. She has an MA in Creative Writing. Under the name Caroline Bond, she is the author of six novels, including two Radio 2 Book Club picks, The Second Child and The Day We Left. She lives in Leeds with her husband and one of her three children . . . the other two having grown up and escaped.

Also by Rachel NorthHappily Never After

Published in Great Britain in 2025 by Corvus,an imprint of Atlantic Books Ltd.

Copyright © Rachel North, 2025

The moral right of Rachel North to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

No part of this book may be used in any manner in the learning, training or development of generative artificial intelligence technologies (including but not limited to machine learning models and large language models (LLMs)), whether by data scraping, data mining or use in any way to create or form a part of data sets or in any other way.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.

135798642

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Paperback ISBN: 978 1 80546 057 2

E-book ISBN: 978 1 80546 058 9

Printed in Great Britain

Corvus

An imprint of Atlantic Books LtdOrmond House

26–27 Boswell Street

London

WC1N 3JZ

www.atlantic-books.co.uk

Product safety EU representative: Authorised RepCompliance Ltd., Ground Floor, 71 Lower Baggot Street,Dublin, D02 P593, Ireland. www.arccompliance.com

With love to Suzie B

Chalice Family Tree

Prologue

One minute the sea breeze is ruffling my hair and the sun is hot on my face, the next I’m falling.

It’s a fast, merciless descent. I flail, grasping at thin air, but there’s nothing to hold on to. I manage one deep, desperate breath.

I hit the water. It feels like concrete. Bones snap. I black out.

When I come to, the sea is breathtakingly cold. Blood surges through my heart. I open my eyes. The salt water stings. I can see the eddies of foam where the waves are smashing into the island. Having survived the fall, I’m now in grave danger of having my brains dashed out on the rocks, but I’m powerless to resist. The sea throws me around like an enraged child with a damaged toy. My arm smashes into my face, breaking my nose. My legs are yanked in different directions. I’m being ripped apart. Mercifully, the assault doesn’t last long. The pummelling and tumbling eases, then stops. The current carries my battered body away from the jagged shoreline. I’ve been granted a reprieve.

Free of the pull of the island, the sea’s power is muted. It’s a blessed relief after so much violence. I drift, suspended in a quiet, calm underwater world. I can see for miles. Shoals of silver fish tilt, turn and flash away from me. I sink further, moving slowly, twisting and twirling away from the light. My limbs waft, liquid and useless as the water darkens, deepening from sky blue to cobalt. My lungs begin to burn. The cold gnaws at my bones. I can’t hold out much longer. As much as I know it will be the death of me, I start to panic. The water deepens from lapis to indigo. Even the fish have deserted me. There’s no air, but the compulsion to breathe is overwhelming. I simply have to.

I gulp.

There’s a burst of bubbles – my last breath leaving my body – and I’m done for.

The sea rushes in, forcing its way down my throat like a fist. It packs into my lungs, stretching them, filling up every last bit of space. I’m waterlogged. I plunge faster. Indigo turns to denim. Still I stare. The living, breathing, sunlit world is long gone. The sea is suffocating me.

My lungs burst and the panic melts away. My body relaxes and I accept my fate.

I’m grateful that it’s over – all of it.

I’m no longer cold, no longer hurting, no longer fighting. I watch denim blue deepen to slate grey. The darkness beckons me. I briefly wonder whether I’ll ever reach the bottom.

My last conscious thought is the realisation that I’ll never know.

Five Weeks Earlier

Chapter 1

JONNY

It was Saturday night and Jonny was watching the Grand Prix highlights on his laptop, a tumbler of whisky in his hand, his kids asleep in bed and his wife upstairs with a book – all was well in his world. Well, perhaps not everything. Helena was still only speaking to him when the children were present, but at least she no longer looked like she wanted to murder him. Her jealousy was becoming a problem, again. She went through these cycles of insecurity, the start and end points of which were hard for Jonny to fathom. His recent spate of business trips obviously hadn’t helped, but he suspected that her age and hormones were also playing a role in her mood swings. Helena’s niggling suspicions were wearying and unjust. Jonny didn’t have the time or the inclination for emotional entanglements outside of his marriage; there were already too many within it. But this was not Jonny’s first rodeo. He and Helena had been together for seventeen years and during that time he’d learnt that sometimes you simply had to smile, buy flowers and hang on in there until things settled down. Jonny finished his drink, poured himself another one and watched Lando Norris try to chase down Max Verstappen.

During the ad break Jonny glanced at his inbox. In among the usual barrage of business correspondence and rubbish there was one email that caught his eye. It was from Geraldine, his aunt – who also happened to be head of the Chalice Group and, therefore, his boss. Time sent 23.29 p.m. Did the woman ever switch off? He opened it.

To: [email protected]: [email protected]: [email protected]: 70th Birthday

Dear Jonny,I’ve decided to celebrate my birthday with family this year. Propose we get together on Isola dei Delfini, 9th–12th May. It’s during termtime so I’m not expecting the children to come, or Helena for that matter. I assume she’ll already have plans.

It will be an opportunity for us to talk about the future.

Alice will be in touch re arrangements.Yours,Geri

WTF. It wasn’t an invitation, it was a summons. The arrogance was breathtaking, even by Geri’s standards. So his aunt expected him to totally upend his schedule, at incredibly short notice, to accommodate a trip to Italy – and not bring his family with him. And the dig about Helena having plans was low. Geri simply couldn’t understand that being a mother was a job, and a valuable one. That’s what came of never having a family of your own. Geri had sacrificed everything for her career. It had worked. She had made it, and made it big, but there had been consequences – for herself and everyone around her. Jonny stared at the ashy logs in the wood burner – despite it being April it was still cold enough for a fire in rural Hertfordshire – and his thoughts drifted to Isola dei Delfini.

Rich as he was, Jonny was still cognisant of the fact that owning an island off the Amalfi coast was a privilege. His grandfather, Gerald Chalice, had bought Isola dei Delfini over thirty years ago; an overt ‘fuck you’ to everyone who had ever doubted or disrespected him, and there had been quite a few of them. A bald, fat baker from Scunthorpe was not your usual multimillionaire. Jonny had spent many happy holidays on the island as a teenager. He still visited as frequently as he could – often combining business and pleasure. Frigid investors had been known to thaw rapidly in the warm waters that surrounded their rocky little lump of paradise. But the thought of spending three days there with his aunt was not something he relished. In truth, Jonny couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on the island with her. Geri rarely visited Isola dei Delfini; she was too busy, too uptight, too averse to enjoying the fruits of her considerable labour.

Jonny reread her terse message. Irritating as it was, it was interesting and timely. So fly to Italy, as demanded, he would – not because it was Geri’s birthday, but because of her seemingly innocuous comment about discussing the future. It was the first time Geri had directly acknowledged that things were going to have to change – and that was huge. Jonny had been waiting long enough for her to realise that her reign couldn’t last forever. She was sixty-nine, for Christ’s sake. Sure, she was still as sharp as a pickaxe, but questions were being asked and that was never good, for any business. Jonny felt the long-suppressed anticipation that had lived in his stomach for years stir and stretch. Was Geri finally going to step aside after nearly twenty years as CEO of the Chalice Group? He switched off the Grand Prix and fired back an immediate ‘yes’. It would do no harm to come in first and fast.

Chapter 2

JULIET

To: [email protected]: [email protected]: [email protected]: 70th Birthday Celebration

Dear Juliet,I hope you are well.

You’ll be pleased to know that your absence is being felt around the business.

I wanted to let you know that I’ve decided to celebrate my birthday with family this year. I propose that we get together on Isola dei Delfini, 9th–12th May.

It will be an opportunity for us to talk about the future.

Alice will be in touch re arrangements. If you have special requirements for the baby, please let her know and she will sort.Yours,Geri

Juliet read the email from her aunt at 2.15 a.m. on the Sunday morning. It only served to add to her already considerable distress. Crying was the wrong word for what newborn babies did. What they did was bleat – frantically and insistently. At least, that’s what her daughter, Sophie, had done, with little pause, since arriving in the world, red-faced and furious, four short but interminable weeks ago.

Juliet had known that becoming a mother would be a huge adjustment. Having been childless for so many years, she’d been nervous about the realities of actually having a baby. But she hadn’t dreamt it would be like this. She’d never known tiredness like it. She felt disabled, undone, inadequate at even the basics of life, never mind motherhood. She also felt totally alone. Harry, her ex-husband, was gone. Christ, what would he think if he could see her now? Not that he would be thinking about her. He’d currently be tucked up in bed with Fleur, his two flaxen-haired children slumbering peacefully in a distant corner of their immaculately converted barn. Juliet still hated to do the maths on that particular equation. Three years to create a whole new life; complete with wife, kids and a dog – it was going some. Support from her own relatives? No, that wasn’t an option either. The Chalices were not that sort of family. The only person who had expressed any interest or kindness had, somewhat surprisingly, been Jonny’s wife, Helena. But as she’d said when she’d called round with an outfit for Sophie and a pamper hamper for Juliet – she understood how tough having a newborn was, having been there and got the milk-and-tear-stained T-shirt three times herself.

Juliet rocked the still-crying Sophie in her arms. The impossibility of Geri’s request sat there in black on white, backlit for emphasis, on her phone screen. Any special requirements for the baby. Geri hadn’t even used Sophie’s name. It was too much. She was being asked to get dressed, brush her hair and clean her teeth, pack everything a baby travelling abroad for the first time would need, then drive to Heathrow, get on a plane and fly to Naples. From there she would have to navigate the airport with the three tonnes of baby paraphernalia and get a car to Positano, where she would be expected to board a boat that would, in theory, take her and her daughter across the sea to a lump of rock in the middle of the Med.

It was some sort of terrible joke. The timing of which was perfectly appalling. After nineteen years of non-stop dedication, after establishing beyond doubt that she, Juliet Chalice, was as good as, if not better than, both of her brothers, never mind the legion of middle and senior (mostly male) managers she’d worked for, then managed; after expanding the business into new, exciting areas and demonstrating that such expansion was worthwhile and hugely profitable, at precisely the point she was on the cusp of proving that her vision for the future of the Chalice Group was the correct one, in fact, the only one – Geri had decided to kick the hornets’ nest.

Why couldn’t Geri have waited a few measly months? Why call a family meeting to discuss the future now, when Juliet was away from the business on maternity leave, coping alone with a baby that simply refused to sleep?

Juliet set off on what felt like her thousandth circuit of the bedroom. Her suspicion that the timing was deliberate made her want to weep. At best it was unhelpful, at worst it was sabotage – at precisely the point Juliet was least able to defend herself. As Sophie cried and Juliet paced, her fears mushroomed. Perhaps, despite all Geri’s protestations about the need for equality, despite her position as one of the most influential role models for women making it in the upper echelons of the corporate world, she was, deep down, unwilling to hand control of the business over to another woman? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Her struggle to become a mother had cost Juliet her marriage; now it looked like it was going to cost her even more. It was too much. Juliet gave in to her emotions and joined her daughter in sobbing. That was the only benefit of being a single parent – there was no one around to hear you scream.

When they were both howled out Juliet put an exhausted Sophie in her cot – a third of the way down, on her back, with the blanket no higher than her tiny shoulders so that there was no chance of it restricting her breathing, as instructed by the baby books – then she crept out of the nursery. She crossed the landing and went through to the wreck of her en suite. There she had the pee that she’d needed for the past three hours. As she sat on the toilet she gave herself a talking-to. Solutions, not problems – that was her forte. At least, it used to be. She might not be in control of her emotions, but she could be in control of her circumstances, and she needed to if she was going to make it to Isola dei Delfini in a month’s time She took a deep breath, hoisted her knickers up over the ruche of skin where her toned stomach used to be, and flushed the toilet. Then she washed her hands and face, avoiding the mirror as she did so. Her postpartum struggles were, when you boiled it down to the basics, primarily a resource and expertise issue. What she needed was help. And given that her family were not going to provide it, she was going to have to go ‘out of house’ and buy it in. For the first time since Sophie’s birth Juliet felt her synapses firing. Perhaps Geri’s email had inadvertently done her a favour. It was amazing what a tight deadline could do to clarify your thinking.

Back in her room, Juliet grabbed her laptop and climbed into bed. She emailed a curt acceptance to Geri and set about googling nanny agencies.

Chapter 3

BENEDICT

Ben finally made it home at about 11.30 on Sunday morning.

First step – strip and shower. Next step – pop a couple of benzos and sleep. He set his alarm for 7.00 p.m., then on second thoughts changed it to 5.00 p.m. It had been another heavy weekend, but with the Nielson meeting at 9.00 a.m. the following morning he knew he’d need the evening to get his shit together. And people said he was irresponsible! Once in bed, Ben was comatose and snoring within seconds.

Only after he’d woken, eaten spaghetti hoops on toast – his go-to hangover cure – and updated his Insta did Ben check his emails. He was surprised to see his aunt’s name on the list. Geri was very much of the ‘why have a dog and bark yourself?’ school of thought when it came to the business, and her terrier of choice, Ms Baxter, normally did most of the yapping.

To: [email protected]: [email protected]: [email protected]: 70th Birthday Celebration

Hey Ben,Given that everyone keeps insisting that seventy is some sort of a milestone – apart from you – I’ve decided to celebrate my birthday properly this year. I’m sure you’ll approve – I know how you love a party.

I propose that the family get together on Isola dei Delfini, 9th–12th May. No kids, no spouses. Although Juliet will, obviously, have to bring Sophie.

It will be good for us to have some time together.

It will also be an opportunity for us to talk about the future, which I know is the subject of much frenzied speculation at the moment.

Alice will be in touch re the arrangements.Love,Geri x

A trip to the island! Now there was a pleasant thought on a wet Sunday evening.

It had been a while since Ben had been to Isola dei Delfini. Work got in the way of so many things – use of the beautiful house, the clifftop pool, and the private yacht that provided easy and very stylish access to the many bars of Capri and Positano, being just some of them. Ben wondered, with increasing frequency these days, whether it was all worth it. What was the point of being stinking rich if you didn’t have the time to enjoy it? Maybe his father had had the right idea after all. Perhaps stepping off the treadmill mid-sprint, at the relatively young age of forty-seven, hadn’t been a typically random act of Ian Chalice madness, but a rare example of sanity. Although from what Ben had gleaned from his father’s bitter rants, it was more a case of being shoved off rather than stepping off, and by his big sister Geri, of all people! Sibling rivalry was obviously hard-wired into each generation of the Chalice family.

It was time that Ben had a little R & R at the family’s Italian hideaway. His bloody brother was there all the fucking time. Jonny seemed to view Isola dei Delfini as his own private retreat. If it wasn’t holidays with Helena and the kids, it was business trips with potential investors or one of his many ‘strategy sessions’ with his team. Why such meetings needed to take place in the middle of the Med was anyone’s guess. Ben felt so energised by his resentment that he hauled himself off the sofa and went to get dressed. As he pulled on a pair of linen trousers and a jumper he reflected on how Jonny always managed to get more than his fair share – of everything. Even if Jonny hadn’t been his brother . . . well, half-brother . . . Ben could quite easily have hated the complacent prick.

The thought of Jonny on holiday with his family stung. Ben hadn’t seen his own children, Sasha and Ethan, for over a month. It wasn’t for the want of trying – although, come to think of it, he hadn’t responded to the most recent email from his solicitor yet. He’d do that tomorrow, after the Nielson meeting. His own kids, and he was reduced to haggling like some cash-strapped junkie for whatever his dealer was prepared to part with. A wave of self-pity washed over Ben. He looked around his stylish, soundproofed, silent apartment and yearned for the mess and noise of the house in Fulham. The house that he was still paying for, but wasn’t permitted to set foot inside without prior permission, and even then Natasha only allowed him as far as the hall. Sensing the emptiness of a long evening ahead, Ben briefly considered calling Charlie or Khalil and meeting them in the Mayfair, but he resisted the urge. See? Concrete proof that he was behaving himself, and there wasn’t even anyone looking.

Instead of heading out Ben wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Savoury or sweet? Krystyna, his housekeeper, knew what snacks he liked and kept the shelves stocked accordingly. Feeling a craving for sweetness, he went for the pack of Belgian chocolate eclairs. He ate the first where he stood, musing on what his favourite hag was really up to.

Geri had been dangling the Chalice crown in front of them for years, assessing just how high each of them was prepared to jump to snatch it, but this was new. Normally Geri liked to keep them apart while she made them dance. She ran them like a stable of mistresses, rationing her attention and her patronage, sowing seeds of mistrust by casually mentioning time spent with one or a decision influenced by another. Divide and rule – it was a strategy that had worked well in the past. That Ben was the ‘mistress’ who got the most attention was precious to him, and not only because it put Jonny and Juliet’s noses out of joint. Ben genuinely had a soft spot for Geri. Odd as it obviously seemed to his siblings, and to everyone else, the two of them had a connection that went beyond business and blood. In truth Ben wasn’t one hundred per cent sure what Geri’s fondness for him was based on, but he was happy to roll with it. It was nice to have someone who liked him. But gathering them all together on the island was a different tactic – more risky and much more likely to result in open warfare. Maybe Geri really was planning her succession. Ben prised another eclair out of the box and took a bite. The other two would be wetting themselves at the prospect of her finally making a decision. They’d been vying with each other to become Geri’s successor for years. Or perhaps the old witch was simply bored. Either way, it would be interesting, and it was always fun to run a little interference.

Eclair demolished, Ben licked his fingers and picked up his phone. He found an old shot of himself silhouetted against the sunset on the terrace at Mira Capri and typed, Heading back to my spiritual home in a few weeks’ time. Can’t wait. Bring it on! Then he texted Geri a thumbs-up.

Chapter 4

ALICE

The Chalice siblings were so predictable it was almost funny. Jonny coming in first, fast and formal, with Juliet close on his heels a few hours later followed, eventually, by Ben – way off the pace, as per usual. But at least they’d all confirmed that they would be attending Geri’s birthday celebrations. It was game on.

Alice kept her own email to Geri brief and purely professional, which was exactly the way her boss preferred things.

To: [email protected]: [email protected]: 70th Birthday Celebration

All confirmed, as of 20.19 p.m. on Sunday.

Will copy you in once itineraries are finalised.

See you tomorrow.Alice

It was as much a part of Alice’s job to know what was going on within the family and to keep Geri apprised of it, as it was for her to run Geri’s office and her diary. It was such deftness, diligence and discretion that had secured her a job with the company in the first place. Not her current role, of course. Hell no, it had taken Alice three years to claw her way up through the interminable strata of the Chalice Group head office hierarchy to get close to the seat of power. Another eight months before she got to cross the polished parquet of the executive floor into the inner sanctum of Geri Chalice’s office. Add a year, and finally she’d made it. She was Geraldine Chalice’s PA. On her way up Alice had made it her business to find out as much as she could about the Chalices – past and present.

As with all ‘great’ dynasties, it was a rags-to-riches tale.

The Chalice empire began with a small bakery called the Bread Basket that opened near the market in Scunthorpe on Monday, 13 March 1960. Gerald Chalice, Geri’s father, made the loaves and Mary, his wife, ran the counter. But from the outset Gerald didn’t really want to make bread, what he wanted to make was money. So when his father, unexpectedly and somewhat fortuitously, died at the age of forty-five, Gerald sold his parents’ house, moved his mother into the flat above the shop and invested the proceeds of the sale in another shop. With the profits from the Bread Basket and the new bakery he then bought another shop. And so on . . . and so on. The acquisition of a catering supplier four years later marked Gerald’s transition from baker to businessman, and he never looked back. Nor did he ever stand still. His business model was simple and very effective: low production costs, high margins and healthy profits on unhealthy products, the majority of which he ploughed back into his rapidly growing business. Gerald’s later, much-repeated claim – that he never borrowed a penny in his life – wasn’t strictly true, but it wasn’t far off. Gerald was all about keeping control financially as well as strategically. That the Chalice Group was still family-owned was testament to the power of that mantra.

As planned, Gerald made his first million by the time he was thirty-five, his second before he turned forty. He stopped counting the million milestones after that, but he never stopped striving for more. Gerald’s success transformed his and Mary’s lives. Scunthorpe became little more than an origin story. The couple were living in a huge house, with staff, in Holland Park by the time they had their children. Geraldine was born first, followed two years later by Ian. The children grew up surrounded by wealth and privilege, but dominated by their father. He invested in a private education for both of them – up to the age of eighteen. There would be, Gerald knew, benefits from eradicating the last traces of his children’s northern roots and in them picking up some well-off, well-connected London friends, but eighteen was the cut-off in terms of ‘book learning’. Gerald certainly didn’t believe in university; he thought it ‘fostered idleness and odd ideas’. Instead, first Geraldine then Ian joined the family firm on the first Monday after they finished sixth form.

By then the business had expanded massively, to encompass an extensive retail operation, a chain of in-store bakeries in supermarkets, a very lucrative catering supplies network and some own-label contracts.

But although the Chalices’ wealth was now eye-watering and the circles they moved in unrecognisable compared to their ‘humble’ beginnings, Gerald still held onto some very traditional values – which was where the trouble began.

By all accounts – and there were still stories doing the rounds within the business even when Alice joined – Gerald’s decision to nominate Ian as his heir, rather than Geraldine, poisoned the family well from the beginning. According to legend, Geri always had the better brain. Her maturity, application and business acumen trumped her younger brother’s hands down, but she lacked one essential attribute – she wasn’t a man. Years of rivalry and rancour ensued, with the siblings vying for Gerald’s attention and endorsement. Tensions came to a head when Gerald finally retired after forty-five years in charge – and made Ian CEO. The business held its collective breath, but to everyone’s surprise feisty, fierce, formidable Geraldine appeared to accept her father’s decision. She carried on working as hard as ever and even more effectively. It was under Geri’s direction that the business ramped up its own-label division. A division that went on to deliver huge profits for the Chalice Group.

That Geraldine was also working equally hard on unseating her brother only became apparent five years later when, in a swift, effective and some would say brutal coup, the Board turned against Ian and he was out on his ear. The bitter legal battles and Ian’s very public journey from business tycoon to rich waster in the years that followed made the Chalice family a favourite with the press, gutter and financial, but through it all Geraldine pushed the business and the bottom line to new heights.

The one surprise was that Geraldine’s feud with her brother did not extend to his children. All three of them joined the business and rose through the ranks – in at least two cases to the Board – in double-quick time. Some saw this as noble of Geraldine, a sign that she didn’t lay the ‘sins of the father’ at the feet of his offspring. Others said it was a cruel tactic to take away not only the business from her brother, but his children as well.

Well, they weren’t children any more.

Geri’s decision to make Jonny, Juliet and Ben her heirs did, obviously, carry the risk of history repeating itself, but as many insiders told Alice when she started work at head office, family businesses were different; the politics far more personal, the rivalries more intense and the risks and rewards so much higher.

That Alice was being trusted to play a role in this next chapter of the Chalice family saga was exciting. She had done her homework, she knew the players and, most importantly, she was privy to the thoughts and wishes of Geri.

What she was going to do with that trust they were all about to find out.

Chapter 5

GERI

Geri read Alice’s email before her evening swim. On seeing that they’d all confirmed she felt little, other than glad that things were finally in motion. Geri was used to people doing as she asked.

She walked down the stairs to the basement. The lift had not been her idea, but the pool was. She dropped her robe on the side, dived in and began powering up and down. The only sounds were her own breathing and the small splash as she executed her tumble turns. Geri swam her sixty-nine lengths in just over an hour. She added a length every birthday. It was a good way of keeping her stamina up.

How did she stay so fit in mind and body?

It was simple – commitment. Geri always fully committed to everything she did. You had to, if you wanted to stay on top. A healthy eating regime, and regular exercise, including her swimming, daily yoga and very little downtime, took care of her body. As to her mind, well, that was as sharp as ever. Running a business worth an estimated two billion tended to be all the workout your brain cells needed. It was undeniable that ageism was rife, in business as in life, especially with regard to women, but Geri had no intention of falling victim to it. She’d spent a lifetime building up her reputation and her profile precisely for this reason. Power and wealth were the ultimate protection and she had accrued a lot of both. But with each passing birthday Geri had felt the spectre of other people’s prejudices drawing nearer. There was the increasing interest in her ‘future’ every time she gave an interview, the whispers among their commercial partners, the occasional rumour in the City that she was going to step down at the next AGM, or perhaps the one after that – the vultures were most definitely circling. Including the ones in her own family. Of course, her nephews and niece had a massive vested interest in her plans. They, and their offspring, were her heirs. She could almost smell the desperation to see her retire emanating from them like BO. No amount of expensive cologne could mask it. Why else had they all agreed to drop everything and come to Isola dei Delfini at her request? They weren’t coming to celebrate her birthday, they were coming to claim their birthright. The irony that she’d chosen not to have children so that she could focus on the business, only to have to hand it back to one of her brother’s line, was not lost on Geri.

Unsettled by the ghost of past decisions and the spectre of impending choices, Geri towelled off and went through to her yoga studio. She slipped on some leggings and a vest and settled into Padmasana. Eyes closed, she began her Bahya Pranayama breathing. Geri’s Sankalpa was difficult, but clear. If it was the last thing she did as CEO, she was going to ensure that the next generation of the Chalice family got what they deserved.

Day One

Chapter 6

BENEDICT

Ben wasn’t the least bit surprised when Jonny and Juliet decided to come down to meet Geri with him. The thought of him being the one to welcome her to the island was obviously unacceptable to them. And so it began, the jostling for the spotlight.

They walked down to the helipad in single file. Once they reached the terrace they instinctively arranged themselves by age order along the low wall and looked out at the distant horizon. Ben wondered, not for the first time, where Juliet’s freakish height came from. Perhaps Geri would be wise to ask for DNA tests on all of them before she chose her successor. Although given their father’s reputation, perhaps it would be safer to leave that old dog sleeping – for all their sakes. Watching Jonny and Juliet standing together, leaving a gap between them and him, brought back some uncomfortable childhood memories for Ben. He’d known from being very young that there was no love lost between his half-brother and sister, but that regardless of their personal animosity they would always put up a united front when confronted by him. It had been that way since they first met. To be fair, it had, somewhat inauspiciously, been on the day that Jonny and Juliet buried their mother, but that had hardly been Ben’s fault. As a trusting ten-year-old, how was he supposed to know that their father would use the occasion of his exwife’s death to try to reintegrate himself, and Ben, back into the family? It had, understandably, been a tricky few hours all round, so when Ben had seen his grief-ravaged but still beautiful eighteen-year-old half-sister finally look at him and approach, bearing a plate of much-needed food, his little heart had lifted. Only to be crushed. Juliet had set the plate down on the table, stood over him and without any preamble whatsoever asked, ‘Why are you called Benedict?’ Ben didn’t know, so he’d politely and simply replied, ‘I don’t know. Why are you called Juliet?’ Juliet had smiled, with zero warmth, and said, ‘Our mother chose mine and Jonny’s names specially. We’re both J’s because she was called Joanna. She did it so that we would always be connected whatever happened.’ She’d swallowed. Ben remembered it as a painful sound. Then she’d said, ‘And what happened was, your father left her and us.’ And with that she’d walked back to Jonny, her real brother, and not looked at or spoken to Ben again for the rest of the day.

That powerful need to put him in his place had dominated their relationship ever since.

The same silence surrounded them now. There was no asking after each other’s kids, no small talk about their journeys, no chat about their current projects and absolutely zero speculation about Geri’s plans. But Ben knew that it was what was not said that mattered most when it came to his siblings. That neither of them considered Ben a contender was no secret; in their eyes, he was an irrelevance. Their much higher-profile roles within the Group and their seats on the Board bolstered them in their smug complacency. Both of them had had stellar trajectories within the business.

After stints working on the Advertising and Marketing side of the business Jonny had, astutely, moved over into Finance where he was now a director, which was as close to God as you could get in many people’s eyes. Not Ben’s, obviously. Because despite his Savile Row suits, his full head of silver-tinged hair and his strong jaw, what was Jonny really other than a broker? Well, sharp, greedy, self-obsessed bastards were ten a penny in the City. Why would Geri choose him to head up the organisation that she had poured her life and soul into? Jonny had never cared about the business really, all he was interested in was the money.

No, in Ben’s humble opinion, it was Juliet the Giantess who was Geri’s natural successor.

Juliet was, and had always been, a slave to the company. She’d worked her way up from the actual shop floor, learning the ropes the old way. Geri’s way. And his aunt must have been impressed. Why else would she have entrusted Juliet with the core bakery business at the tender age of twenty-six and put her in charge of Acquisitions by the time she was thirty? Acquisitions was known as the future of the company division internally. Under Juliet’s stewardship, and with Geri’s blessing, the acquisitions team had made real inroads into precisely Ben’s wheelhouse – health and well-being. The Chalice Group now owned a number of branded spa hotels, a large chain of gyms, and a successful yoga and meditation franchise, and had recently launched a very lucrative well-woman product range. Not too shabby for a company whose roots lay in churning out cheap, unhealthy fast food to the masses. Oh, how Ben would have loved Juliet’s gig. But no. When he’d joined the business he’d been stuck in the Research division, and he’d never left. He’d moved no further than one floor up, in the same building, in the past eight years. Sure, Geri had appointed him Head of Consumer Insight after he’d moaned about his lack of progression and she’d given him a bigger office, but he wasn’t even a full director. It sucked.

Why shouldn’t he be in with a shout? Long shots provided the best returns. He was younger than Jonny or Juliet, he understood the modern world that the Chalice Group now operated in and he was the only one who appreciated the power of social media in global brand-building. He had relationships with some of the best digital houses and links with the most successful influencers. If Geri really wanted to appoint someone who could lead the Group not just into the next decade, but into the 2040s and beyond, then he was her best option.

Was he trying to convince himself? Yes, of course he was, but he needed to, no other bugger was going to.

Ben sensed Jonny looking at his Breitling, as impatient as ever. Juliet was also getting restless. She was shifting from foot to foot and sighing, very audibly.

‘I thought you said she’d be here by 5.00 p.m.,’ Jonny huffed.

Ben stretched and yawned, an OTT gesture specifically designed to irritate his brother. ‘I did.’

‘Well, it’s quarter past. I’m not standing around here like a tool for much longer, if we don’t how long she’s going to be—’

Ben interrupted Jonny – it was another thing that his brother hated. ‘Things to do, bro?’

Jonny hesitated. ‘No. Not really.’ That was unlikely. Jonny always had something on the boil. ‘Can’t you check?’ he snapped.

Ben refused to rise to his rudeness. ‘I could, but Alice’s message, all of ten minutes ago, gave their ETA as 17.00.’ She’d actually said 17.30, but what was the point of having more information than the competition unless you used it – even it was for the petty entertainment of ticking off your rivals; sorry, siblings.

Jonny glanced at his watch again, but he didn’t move. Being absent from the line-up would look bad. To signal his displeasure he started pacing up and down the terrace. Juliet continued to shuffle on the spot, her eyes glued to her phone. Her silent agitation was as oppressive as Jonny’s pissed-off restlessness. And the pair of them wondered why he avoided them as much as was physically possible. Given there was time to kill, Ben decided to go fishing – metaphorically, not literally, obviously. ‘What do you two make of all this, then?’

‘What do you mean?’ Jonny.

‘This.’ Ben waved his arms around to encompass them, the island and Geri’s imminent arrival. ‘Her sudden desire to “celebrate” ’ – he made air quotes with his fingers – ‘her birthday with family.’

Jonny stared at him, his impatience shading into irritation. ‘As you know full well, it must be about succession planning.’

Ben grinned. ‘Succession planning. Is that what we’re calling it?’

Juliet finally pitched in. ‘I don’t think we should be calling “it” anything. Trying to second-guess Geri is like trying to predict the weather – only much more difficult.’ It was on the tip of Ben’s tongue to point out that with any decent weather app it was dead easy to know whether you were going to have sunshine or a storm, but he didn’t get the chance.

Jonny got in first, as he so often did. ‘Oh, come off it, Juliet. Let’s not pretend. The only reason we’ve all made this trip is to finally get some clarity about what she’s planning. God knows it’s about time. Why she’s decided to do it here, I don’t know. I can’t remember the last time she set foot on Isola dei Delfini.’

It was too good an opportunity for Ben to miss. ‘That could be because you’re always in residence.’

‘Do you have to be such a dick?’ Jonny snapped.

‘Me?’ Ben’s laughter drifted out to sea and was quickly lost. ‘It’s not me who’s the big dick around here.’

‘Can you two please pack it in? Look. She’s here.’ Juliet pointed to the horizon and there, sure enough, was a small black dot that was growing bigger by the second.

As the helicopter closed in on the island, the throaty tack tack of the blades filled Ben’s ears. Soon the trees were thrashing back and forth and full of dust. There was nothing understated about arriving by chopper. Ben slipped on his shades, all the better to watch the landing. He’d seen helicopters land on Isola dei Delfini before, but each time it was impressive. The landing pad was small and the jagged rock face unforgiving. Any descent had to be pinpoint accurate. Geri’s helicopter slowed, turned sideways and manoeuvred into position. The swirl of debris increased. The chopper hovered fatly for a couple of seconds then sank heavily from the sky. There was a point when it looked like the pilot had misjudged the landing and flown too close to the cliff, but after a brief ungainly wobble it touched down perfectly, bang in the centre of the small landing pad. Then, instead of slowing, the roar of the blades appeared to speed up and get louder. Ben could feel the power surging through them. For a second or two, it looked as if the force was going to pull the helicopter off the small concrete ledge into the sea. But gradually they lost momentum until they finally came to a complete stop. The engine died. Everything settled: the dust, the noise, the turbulence. The pilot removed their headphones, unhooked the door and climbed out. Their aviator sunglasses glinted in the late afternoon sun as they looked briefly up at the terrace. Then they set off, striding up the steps two at a time.

It was time to say hello to Geraldine Chalice, their aunt and current CEO of the Chalice Group. The woman who had run the company, impressively and ruthlessly, since ousting her elder brother, their father, twenty years ago. A woman with huge power and influence and a personal wealth that ran into the tens of millions. A woman with no children of her own. A woman who, contrary to her appearance and energy levels, was about to turn seventy. And, most importantly, the woman who held their future in her tight, some might say choking, grip.

Chapter 7

GERI

Geri got a serious buzz out of flying. The control, the freedom, the perspective. Flying allowed you see the whole picture, the adjacencies, the connections and the distances between places and people, and Geri liked to view things in their entirety. Flying was also a skill, an impressive one. It required mental acuity, knowledge, astute judgement. To do it well you had to monitor a myriad of ever-changing conditions and master a very powerful machine. The slightest lapse in concentration could easily result in you killing yourself and everyone travelling with you.

People were always shocked to discover that Geri had her pilot’s licence and that she used it. And Geri liked nothing better than surprising people. Her capacity to confound expectations had been integral in helping her to transform a successful retail and food services business into a multimillion, multicountry food and lifestyle empire.

There was also, she was more reluctant to admit, the image factor. A self-piloted helicopter, a private island, the town house in Chelsea, the property on St Barts and the apartment in New York; they were the necessary assets of a dynasty. As much as Geri was personally indifferent to such status symbols, she knew that they were important to the Chalice brand – Ben didn’t talk shit all the time. Even the uber-rich needed to flaunt their power, if they wanted to keep hold of it.

Geri was relieved that she’d nailed the landing. She’d had to concentrate hard on the approach. The crosswinds and the presence of a wall of sheer rock behind the awkwardly positioned landing pad made for a tricky descent. Isola dei Delfini might look idyllic, but to held dangers for the ill-prepared. It was also an age since she’d last visited. She simply didn’t have the space in the diary and . . . ? Well, the ‘and’ was more complicated. Family matters often were. Emotions, in Geri’s experience, took an inordinate amount of energy, and although she was ridiculously cash-rich she was extraordinarily time-poor. Which was why she’d made the considerable effort and investment in carving out the time from her busy schedule for this trip. You could bury a whole host of emotions – disappointment, resentment, shame, anger – but that didn’t necessarily mean they died.

It was only after she’d switched off the engine that Geri noticed her audience. They were lined up on the terrace like a set of mismatched Russian dolls. Jonny, Juliet and Ben, her closest relatives and the future of the Chalice Group.

Mismatched. It was a tag that aptly described her nephews and niece. The first time Geri ever saw the siblings together she knew there was never going to be an easy or harmonious dynamic between them. And once again the blame for that could be laid fairly and squarely at Ian’s door. Who, in their right mind, decides that their ex-wife’s funeral is the ideal moment to introduce their new son to the kids from their previous marriage? At the time, Geri remembered being relieved that Ian hadn’t gone the whole hog and brought Nina, his new wife, along as well. As Ben told the story, years later, he’d been totally unaware that it was a funeral. Ian had apparently told him that he was going to a very serious grown-ups’ party and that if he was really good then he might get a slice of chocolate cake, and the chance to meet his big half-brother and sister. What the hell had Ian been thinking? The best way he could have paid his respects to Joanna would have been to stay away. But no, he rocked up with a wide-eyed, suited and booted ten-year-old Ben in tow and everyone had been too shocked and embarrassed to say anything – to his face, at least.

Jonny, to his credit, had handled his father’s appearance and the day itself with a maturity well in advance of his twenty-two years. He’d been dry-eyed and remarkably in control throughout. His eulogy had papered over Joanna’s mental health challenges and the cruel nature of her death with real skill. He even managed to include one short, polite reference to Ian, which must have been a last-minute addition. Juliet, who was already reeling from her mother’s death, had coped less well. Geri had never seen anyone cry so much or so steadily at a funeral. Although to her credit, after the service, when they returned to the hotel for refreshments, Geri had spotted an interaction that had stayed with her for years afterwards.

While Geri was circulating, as one must at these sort of events, she’d spotted Ben sitting alone and miserable at one of the tables. It looked as if he hadn’t moved since his father had abandoned him to go and speak to some of his friends in the bar. Even way back then, there was something about Ben that had made Geri feel protective. She’d been about to excuse herself and go to his rescue when she caught sight of Juliet. She was standing with Jonny and some other people across the other side of the room, but she was staring at her half-brother. Given her niece’s volatile state Geri had been concerned. But she’d had no need. Because after a moment Juliet stepped away from the group. She walked over to the funeral tea, loaded up a plate and carried it over to Ben. The look of desperate delight on Ben’s face when Juliet silently set her peace offering down in front of him had been touching. Step, blended, nuclear – all families were complex, whatever their composition.

See, this was what happened when they got together away from work; it tilled the soil covering the memories and emotions that Geri tried so hard to ignore. And this visit there was a new ingredient in the mix – fear. Not of her nephews and niece – Geri wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone – but for them.

Chapter 8

ALICE

No matter how often Alice flew with Geri, she was always relieved when they were back on solid ground. It wasn’t anything to do with her boss’s skill as a pilot – in that, as with so many other areas of life, Geri was highly proficient – it was a question of size. Private jets and helicopters, for all their kudos, were small, and small did not equate to safe in Alice’s mind. Added to which, the landing pad on Isola dei Delfini was little more than a shelf tacked onto the side of a sheer cliff. Alice’s shredded nerves were going to take a while to settle after that knife-edge landing. Hence she took her time undoing her harness – even the restraints in a helicopter were designed to make you think about crashing. Not so Geri. She was, as always, straight on to the next thing. She unhooked her belt, removed her headphones and was off without a backward glance. Alice watched her go, content to be left with the luggage and her shifting stomach. Besides, she had no desire to be present for the welcoming ceremony that Ben had arranged. Nor was she needed. She was unimportant within the Chalice universe – in the opinion of Jonny, Juliet and Ben.

The flight and the precarious landing weren’t the only things making Alice feel on edge. As much as she’d prepared for this moment, being on the island was unsettling. The mainland might be only five or six miles away, but Isola dei Delfini felt far more remote than that. Its isolation was, and always had been, an integral part of its appeal.

A loud bang on the side window nearly brought the contents of Alice’s stomach back up. She fumbled with the tricky door latch and only managed to release it after a few attempts. Flustered was the last thing she wanted to be seen to be. Standing next to the helicopter was a young man. He wasn’t tall, but what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle. He looked like a boxer: wiry, strong and poised. He had wavy black hair, worn long and tied back, steady dark eyes and an impressive array of tattoos. As Alice tried to calm her jitters he stood placidly by, awaiting her instructions. This must be Luca, Carla’s nephew. Boat hand, porter, all-round shifter and fixer for the next few days. He’d been hired, at very short notice, on Carla’s recommendation, after the regular guy cried off. To be fair, a heart attack was a reasonable excuse, but it had been one more problem for Alice to solve.

‘You want me to take the bags?’

So Luca wasn’t one for chit-chat. That was fine with Alice. ‘Yes, please. That would be a help.’